


Hey, Cupcake

by whichstiel



Series: Season 14 Codas [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse AU - Pre-apocalypse, Bakeries, Cupcakes, Episode Tag, Episode: s14e06 Optimism, F/F, Meet-Cute, Optimism, episode coda, spn 14x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Charlie's having a terrible day, but an accidental collision just might flip her day - and her life - upside down.





	Hey, Cupcake

**2012**

The elevators of Richard Roman Enterprises were designed for ostentatious display, with their wide window wrapped exteriors and show room lighting. They were elevators you could strike poses in or have torrid, very public affairs. They were elevators to see and be seen. Charlie Bradbury preferred to ride them alone. It was easy to do. Come in an hour earlier than everyone else; leave an hour later. Headphones were armor; her shield was her steady gaze on the floor whenever anyone had the audacity to join her. Even when she had to share an elevator with someone, Charlie had a knack for disappearing into the glassy backdrop. She was a programmer, inconsequential, and that was just the way she liked it. Life was so much more peaceful that way. 

Today there was no such peace. Roman Enterprises was under a newly announced congressional investigation and the complex stirred like an angry beehive. The main lunch room spanned half the third floor and it was, for lack of better descriptor, a madhouse today. She’d just endured fifteen minutes attempting to read her book under the constant barrage of her cubicle neighbor’s worried monologuing about the stability of his job (as though Roman Industries was the last possible place to find work in the Chicago area). Charlie clutched her book under her arm and rode the elevator down, ready to find some much needed solitude in the quiet of her car. There were other people in the elevator talking loudly about the press conference, as though they were all survivors jammed into a life boat. Charlie stared at the floor and tried not to roll her eyes. It wasn’t like it was the end of the world, after all. If one thing failed, there would always be something else out there.

The elevator settled at the ground floor with an almost imperceptible quiver and the doors slid open. Charlie hurried out with her eyes still low, the spine of her book cutting into her arm. And then the edge of a box glanced sharply off her shoulder. Charlie looked up, breath drawn in to protest the assault, and was faced with three huge pink pastry boxes precariously stacked on top of each other. From behind the boxes issued a high, feminine moan of dismay. The top box, jostled by the collision, slid inexorably towards the ground like an iceberg sheeting off a glacier. Charlie’s arms shot out instinctively. Her book dropped to the marbled floor with a crack. She caught the box.

“Whoa,” Charlie gasped as she tried to balance the oddly weighted box in her hands. It wobbled as the contents thumped to one side. “Watch where you’re—“ And then her mouth dropped open and her protest faded away. 

A delicate face twisted in agony peered at her over the other two boxes. Mahogany eyes, full lips, and a halo of dark curls framed her contrite expression as she said, “Oh shit. Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry about that.” 

“Hi,” Charlie said, stupidly. Warmth crept over her ears and engulfed her cheeks. “Um. I mean, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She tried for a reassuring grin, bobbing a little out of habit before remembering that she clutched a poorly balanced pastry box. She froze and tilted the box carefully horizontal again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—“ The woman bit her lip again and her gaze darted around the busy lobby. She smiled ruefully. “Lost,” she finished. “I have to deliver these cupcakes to the Eagle conference room, wherever that is. The guys at the guard station told me to go up to the fifth floor and then I would ‘know where to go from there.’”

Charlie laughed. “Oh god, yeah. They’re pretty useless. Also, you need a key tag to get in.”

The woman’s face fell and she glanced back towards the buzzing guard station ruefully. “Of course I do. They told me I could just go right up. I guess I could—“

“I could walk you there? If you want?” Charlie offered it without thought, still glowing from the sudden shock of meeting the other woman’s wide, warm eyes. 

The woman turned back and flicked her gaze along Charlie appraisingly, her strained frown rapidly replaced by a slow, warm smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Awesome.” Charlie felt the heat leave her cheeks and suffuse the rest of her body instead.  _ Pretty sure she just checked me out ohmygodohmygod. _ “So…”

“The Eagle Room?” Laughter shone in the other woman’s eyes. 

“Right. This way.” Charlie jerked her chin over her shoulder, indicating the closed elevator doors behind her. “I’ll just get the button,” she murmured, shifting the pastry box to one arm and reaching for the gold embossed buttons on the wall. She glanced backwards. “I’m Charlie, by the way. Charlie Bradbury.”

“Charlie, it’s wonderful to meet you,” the other woman said, moving to stand next to Charlie. “My name’s Kara Olson.” She hefted the boxes in her arms demonstratively. “This is my business - Hey, Cupcake!” She intoned the name jovially. ”Well, not this exactly. Not just these specific boxes. But, you know…” She stopped on a steep inhale, then leaned towards Charlie and half whispered conspiratorially, “This is my first big corporate job. Kind of make or break with the bigger caterers, you know? I’m a little nervous.”

“Oh! Wow. So did you make these?” When Kara nodded Charlie said, “that’s so cool. I’m sure you’re - they’re amazing.”

Kara laughed richly and looked up at Charlie through her lashes. “Thanks. You’re pretty amazing yourself for, you know, rescuing me.” She nodded at the box in Charlie’s arms. 

The entire right side of her body, inches away from Kara, felt suddenly electric. Charlie tossed her hair flirtatiously. “Always happy to help a damsel in distress.”

Kara affected a swooning look, lips parted dramatically and eyes cast ceiling-ward. “My hero.”

The elevator doors opened and Charlie led the way inside, trying to control her grin and failing miserably. The elevator was closing when Kara shouted, “Wait!” and lunged forward, jamming her foot into the sliding doors. 

“What is it?” Charlie peered into the bustling lobby. “Did you forget something?”

“I knew I heard something fall,” Kara announced triumphantly. As the doors slid open again with a protesting  _ thunk _ , she jabbed her foot towards the floor in front of them. “Is that yours?”

Charlie followed the line of her foot and noticed her fallen book lying on the marble. “Damn. Thanks, can you hold—?”

“The elevator? Definitely.” 

Charlie sprang forward and retrieved her book, balancing it carefully on top of the box. Kara glanced at the cover as the doors closed again, and the elevator slid upward on its silent cables. “Kate Elliott? Nice choice.”

Charlie grinned. “You read fantasy?”

Kara laughed. “I read everything. But yeah, I read fantasy.” She gave Charlie another deliberative look. “Favorite book?”

“The Hobbit,” Charlie said reflexively, then winced internally. It was true, but the reasons were layered with meaning she couldn’t begin to explain to somebody she just met. 

Kara seemed to miss her turmoil, however. “Nice. It took me forever to get around to reading those,” she said, as though owning up to an astonishing truth. “I got hooked when the movies came out which sounds so uncool to say, all of a sudden.”

Charlie laughed. “I’ve been there. I was that way with Hitchhiker’s Guide.” At Kara’s amused look she protested, “Someone I kind of hated loved the books so I held a grudge about them for the longest time.”

“Poor Douglas Adams!” Kara groaned in mock sorrow.

“The slights to his honor will never be forgiven.” Charlie grinned and the elevator doors slid open on the fifth floor. She led the way, keying open the glass door at end of the short hallway which led to the offices beyond. “Eagle room’s this way, up the hallway, to the right, then the left.” She laughed as Kara groaned. “It’s not obvious at all. Good thing I’m here."

“Mmmhmm. Good thing.” Kara followed Charlie to the Eagle conference room, a bright, cold room decorated in stark white and chrome, overlooking a carefully managed garden terrace beyond. 

“There you are!” A man bustled over, relief painted across his face. “I was worried you’d gotten lost.”

“Just took a while to get through security,” Kara said with a tight smile. “Where should these go?”

“Far table.” The caterer indicated a three tier set of glass plates that stood empty at the far end of the room. “Would you mind arranging them?”

“Sure, no problem.” Kara led the way this time and Charlie trailed after her, enjoying the way her hips swayed as she strode across the sun-streaked room.

They set the boxes on the table and Kara carefully opened each one to check the contents. Each box was lined with exquisitely decorated cupcakes - fine frosting flowers atop smooth pale buttercream with silver candy details. Charlie set her box down and opened it, relieved to see that the shifting, thunking contents in the box was simply a large cardboard cupcake holder that had slid from side to side. The cupcakes within were intact, held in their little pods, and not even a finger of frosting was out of place. 

“Those look amazing,” Charlie said. “I can’t believe you made those.” She stood back and watched Kara remove each cupcake and arrange it carefully on the plates.

“When it’s six a.m. and I’m already covered in frosting, you’d believe it then,” Kara assured her. “And thanks. I usually don’t go this detailed, but when the customer pays extra I like to do a little more, you know?” She set the last cupcake on the lower tray, fussed with the position, and then removed it again, placing it on the table. She rearranged the cupcakes so there were no gaps and then winked at Charlie. “I always make a few extra. So, thanks again.” She handed Charlie the cupcake from the table.

“Oh I can’t take this. Really, I—“

Kara looked at her for a moment and a strange hush seemed to enclose them like a fine lace shawl. “It is mine to give to whom I will,” Kara said, voice dropping low. She pushed the cupcake towards Charlie again.

Charlie’s breath caught. “Oh,” she said faintly. “Okay.” She reached out her hand for the cupcake, fingers brushing along Kara’s knuckles, letting their touch linger before closing her hand around the wrapper and pulling away. This close, Kara smelled like summer-warmed peaches. Her heart thudded in her ribs as though they’d traded far more than just a brief touch. “Thanks.”

Kara gave an odd little half twist of a smile, then turned away and busied herself with folding up the boxes. She plucked a card from the slots of one of the boxes and held it out to Charlie. “In case you like it, and decide you want more.” She winked and pushed it forward a few inches.

“Damn, girl,” Charlie murmured and her growing grin echoed Kara’s. She took the card and closed it in her palm. “Thanks.” 

They stood together in the quiet corner and smiled foolishly at each other then, until the caterer cornered Kara. Charlie floated back to work, her book tucked under her arm and a cupcake and business card in hand, her bad day utterly forgotten.

 

**2013**

The hallway glimmered with light, like guttering stars shining up from the floor. Candles lined the floor, set within and outside of open doorways. Rich scents of curry and salted soup lingered in the air, overload by the heady smell of Kara’s peach cobbler. She was making it in a cast iron kettle, kneeling on the floor in front of a green portable gas stove someone had pulled out of their camping gear. 

It was day five of the blackout, and as a unit their neighbors had decided to throw a party. Not everyone came out for it, of course. There were darkened doorways here and there along the long hallway where those that would rather keep to themselves did just that. As for everyone else - well, it was time to party. 

“Your girlfriend’s awesome,” the sleepy-eyed neighbor who lived in 3R told Charlie. He smelled like skunky sweet pot and communal soup, and they’d never spoken before tonight. 

“She really is,” Charlie said fondly as she reclined against the wall and watched Kara cook. Her fingers itched for wifi, for a cell signal, for news of any sort other than the National Guard members rolling through the quiet streets on their way to the big show in Chicago.

Someone had pulled out a guitar and a motley group, Kara included, were singing along to old camp songs and folkified pop. 

Charlie watched Kara sing and pulled it all into her heart - the sweet smells of cooking fruit, the voices lifted together, her beautiful girlfriend’s smile dimpling her cheeks. She folded them up like glitter in a letter and sealed it away inside herself.  _ Someday when we’re old _ , she thought fondly,  _ we’ll look back on this one wild week _ .

When the cobbler was cooked through, Charlie piled their share in a little paper bowl and took Kara’s hand, pulling her into their apartment. Kara’s eyes sparkled with wine, with the exhilaration of singing, with the reflected longing Charlie cast upon her. “I was just starting to have fun,” she said, but took the paper bowl and set it on the bookshelf near the door and locked it behind them. She slipped her hands around Charlie’s waist and backed her slowly towards their bedroom, eyes sweet and a little sleepy. “But we’ll see them tomorrow, right?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Charlie said, trailing her fingertips along Kara’s chin, to her throat, to the delicate curve of her shoulder. They stopped in the hallway and swayed together as Charlie drank in the warmth of Kara’s skin. She kissed her in the hollow of her throat and drew a hot line with her tongue before sucking a deeper kiss. “Need you,” she whispered. 

Kara ran a caressing hand along Charlie’s temple and tucked her hair back behind her ear. Charlie turned into Kara’s hand and brought her fingertips to her lips. “You’re always wearing that peach oil. Now you taste like peaches, too,” she said, and Kara broke into a cascade of inebriated giggles. 

“Yum. Should I bring that bowl in with us?”

“No power. Sticky sheets.” Charlie pressed kisses into Kara’s palm. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for it later.” She drew her into their bedroom. They undressed in the moonlight, the sounds of the party raging in the hallway distant and muted, like a quieted television. “You’re so beautiful,” Charlie whispered, entranced by the soft light limning Kara in silver. She traced along the shell of her ear and drew her in for a kiss, then another.

“Get on that bed,” Kara mock-growled, slipping her hands down to hook atop Charlie’s slim hips. 

Charlie grinned, fierce and hot, and scrambled to obey.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, their window cracked open to the silent, star filled night beyond. Charlie lay wide awake as Kara drafted towards slumber in her arms. Now that the euphoria of the evening was fading, the shallow sense of worry began to return. “It’s weird, seeing so many stars out here. Wonder when they’ll get the power back on.”

“Soon, baby,” Kara said sleepily. “Until then, I’m kind having fun.” She laughed softly. “I can’t believe I just sang in front of other people.”

“You love singing, babe. Why you don’t do it more often…”

“I’m a terrible singer.”

“You’re a beautiful singer.” Charlie dropped a kiss onto the top of Kara’s head, lips pressing gently against her silk nightcap. She sighed and tilted her head to rest her chin against the silk. “I’ve been telling you that for months now.”

“You’re so biased.”

“I am,” Charlie agreed, and watched the stars shining through the clouds for a long time before she finally fell asleep.

 

**2018**

Charlie drove through Chicago, even though it was out of the way. Even though traffic was terrible. 

Charlie drove through Chicago and turned off the interstate. The vast complex that had once housed Richard Roman Industries now housed the administrative offices for a series of data centers strung throughout the world. She imagined the building would feel very much the same as it had, if she worked there now. Busy, overstuffed with anxious tech-types, and incredibly isolated. 

A few miles beyond Roman Industries was a little city center. Like most cities in the suburbs, it devoted a few blocks “downtown” to a carefully crafted small town mainstreet image. The shops along the next quarter mile were all smaller, brick built edifices with bright, colorful signage carefully carved into expensive wood. The cheerful yellow sunflower still grew out of one of those signs, the words Hey, Cupcake! emblazoned on the sides.

Charlie slowed as she approached, and pulled into the parking lot between the cupcakery and a local bank. She had gleaned from her internet searches that Kara had expanded the business two years ago. She’d invested the money she’d earned into building a new wing onto the rear of the restaurant, which allowed her to add more tables. Now, she served brunch through dinner, as well as her signature cupcakes. 

Kara was single.

She was single, but she hadn’t always been. Charlie had been able to glean a loose history off of unprotected Facebook and Instagram accounts. She’d stopped short of actually hacking into Kara’s accounts. It had felt like too much; like crossing a line that would transform her into something unworthy of Kara.

Charlie snorted. Well, that had already happened about tenfold. 

Charlie parked and shut off her car, sitting there as the engine ticked and cooled. She sat there for minutes, then a half hour, then an hour. Her hands left wet streaks on the steering wheel until she balled them in her lap and struggled to control her breathing. 

She drove away after a while, got a hotel outside of the reach of the suburbs, and shook apart in the quiet of her room.

The next day, she went back in the early hours of the morning, before she could lose her nerve. When the doors opened for brunch, she was one of the first ones in there. 

Cozy tables filled the intimate space and soft music played over the sound system. The walls were still the sunny yellow she remembered, the same shade extended into the newly added dining area. 

“How many?” a server asks her brightly when she stepped inside and Charlie demurred, frozen for a moment. “Um,” she managed. “I’m waiting for someone.” 

She thought about leaving again.

And then she saw her - Kara striding out from the back kitchens with a tray of fresh cupcakes in hand. “Anne, can you open up the case?” she called out and the server shot Charlie a welcoming smile before turning to slide open the glass case that held the cupcakes. 

Kara wore her hair differently these days, Charlie observed through half numb awareness. It was cropped close now with deep indigo curls swirling over her eyes like ocean waves. She was older, certainly, and that was a blessing Charlie never thought she would see. Her smile was the same. Her voice.

A family came into the restaurant, all bustle and push, and Charlie backed out of the entrance and strode out to her car. She sat in the seat as her eyes blurred with tears and the world faded around her.

She cried, folding into herself, pushing her head into a cave formed by the steering wheel and her lap. She cried until her cheeks crusted over and her eyes burned dry. “What the fuck was I thinking,” she whispered, “going in there? Going to see her? Fuck. Fuck!”

On the way back to Kansas she found a case. She killed some monsters and let the anger and hurt sing in her bones like she was an instrument, newly tuned.

 

**2019**

Charlie drove back through Chicago after a particularly nasty ghoul hunt.  _ I was tired, _ she decided later.  _ That’s why I pulled off.  _ Autopilot will take you all sorts of places, if you let it.

She spent less time in the parking lot than she had before, heading inside before the sun turned her car into an oven. Charlie flapped her damp shirtback against her skin, pushed her hair behind her ears, and went inside. 

Kara was behind the counter this time and she looked up when Charlie entered. Her bright smile cut into Charlie quickly, precisely, like a scalpel. 

“How many today?” When Charlie hesitated, she inclined her head towards to display case. “Or will it be cupcakes?”

“Um.” Charlie cleared her throat. She tore her gaze away from Kara and peered at the case. “Uh, do you still make your peach bomb cupcakes?”

Kara’s expression lit with delight. “Not for a while. Gosh, it’s been at least a year!” She leaned forward, as though imparting a great secret. “Not huge sellers, so I usually only make them for myself. I love ‘em.”

“Still?” Charlie asked and then bit back any more. “I mean, I loved those too.” This was too much again. Too much and she had to leave. She had to--

“Hey. You okay?”

Charlie shook her head, then remembered herself and nodded. “Yeah. I just...those remind me of someone I used to know.” She lifted one shoulder. “But it’s fine. I’ll just go.”

“Aw,” Kara said, with the careful, gentle tones she’d always used when Charlie had come home looking wrecked by her day. She looked at Charlie now with an echo of that concern - the same she held for everyone she encountered...before. Kara winked. “Tell you what. It’s quiet right now. Come back in an hour and I’ll have a fresh batch. I could really go for one myself.”

Charlie looked back at the door, to her car beyond. There was blood on the seats that she’ll need to scrub out. Her own blood, and ghoul gore. She had a bottle of water in her trunk and a granola bar stashed in the glove box. Charlie took a long, tight breath. “You know what?” she said finally. “That would be amazing. And I’m starving. Maybe I’ll order some food?”

Kara tapped a pencil smartly against a stack of receipts. “Sounds like a good plan.” She gestured to the room. “Seat yourself while it’s quiet.”

“Okay.” Charlie settled herself in the back corner, back to the wall so she could oversee the room, and the windows beyond. Hunting instinct or survival instinct, it was a part of her now. 

She ordered her food and pulled a book from her bag, a gift from her sort-of-mother to her dead counterpart, and held in trust at the bunker for many years following her death. Charlie opened the Hobbit, and began to read. From the distant kitchen, she could hear Kara singing. 

It was beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> In a weird way, I feel like this story is "going back to my roots." I started writing fan fiction a few years ago and telling the story of Charlie's resurrection was one of the driving motivations behind it. (See: [The Forever Crown](https://archiveofourown.org/series/743595)) I finally understood how powerful and satisfying it was to not only imagine an alternate storyline, but to write it down and share it with others as well. 
> 
> I loved the "new Charlie" we saw in this episode and felt so much for her. I like to think that losing her love broke her in many ways, but the things she learned from Kara are what keep her fighting in the end.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel.


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